


Ego Problems

by CrystalMoonlightI



Category: HuniePop (Video Game)
Genre: Acts of Kindness, Arrogance, Bitterness, Celebrity Status, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fairies, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Guilt, Healing, Huniepop, Knife Violence, Knifeplay, Lies, Magic, Meditation, Moral Dilemmas, Musicians, Regrets, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Scars, Secrets, Serious Injuries, Stardom, Yoga, single mother
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-08 16:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8851561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystalMoonlightI/pseuds/CrystalMoonlightI
Summary: A life of fame and fortune always leads to tragedy. Sadly, Mike's fall from grace came at the end of a knife. It robbed him of his pride, his smugness, and smashed his perfect world apart. Beli and Kyanna, guided by very different reasons, reach out to help in his time of need. Will their friendship be enough to heal the scars? (An alternate storyline set after Blondie part six!)





	1. Ego Problems

**Author's Note:**

> I've had countless requests for both Beli and Kyanna stories. This little project here is the best of both worlds. I assure you, this one will have a very different tone to previous 'Problems' stories. Expect a tale of friendship and healing amidst a cold revelation. It's set after the sixth chapter of Blondie, and also has connections to Hairdresser, so it might be a good idea to have a look at those before you continue.
> 
> The inspirational song for this story is 'Don't stop' by 'Innerpartysystem'. Give it a listen. I assure you, it's quite fitting given the tone of the tale.

Eighteen months had changed everything - yet Mike Andrew Winters, a now famous singer and musician, still remembered the whole turn of events like they'd happened yesterday. A stark realization fell into his lap, and with it, the power to alter the entire course of his life. No longer did he struggle trying to make ends meet. No longer did his band play songs in deadbeat bars for crowds that didn't care. The whole world watched them - and it was all thanks to one woman. Her name? Jessica Maye. Misty Peaks - to those who were so inclined.

"In the end I have one person to thank for all of this. Ironic... the strength you need is sometimes in the place you least expect it. Thanks... if it weren't for you opening my eyes then I never would've seen the mistakes I was making. Tiffany and Audrey? They weren't worth it... Now I've got the world in the palm of my hand... Nothing is gonna hold me back now..."

It didn't hurt to remember - in bad memories there was always a hint of good. With a smile, Winters kicked back into his chair, looking to a pair of hired goons, clad in long black coats and brandishing flashing earpieces. "Go get Kyu. I need to have a word with her."

"Right away, boss."

Closing his eyes, the singer allowed his thoughts to drift back in the form of a pleasant detour. It would be a while until his men returned.

"It's been so long since I last visited Glenberry..."

* * *

"For your information... my name's Jessica… but _you_ can call me Jessie…. I'll happily keep you company if you get me a glass of something _rough_..."

It was strange – but for a reason Mike couldn't explain, something vaguely familiar radiated from this girl. Had he met her somewhere before, perhaps? Why in the world did it feel like he'd done exactly that?

No – it was hopeless. Shaking the thought from his head, he clicked his fingers for the bartender a second time, "Same again, please." Perhaps a little company would be nice after all that had happened tonight.

"There's a good boy," Jessie smiled warmly; "You know… it's kind of funny. I have a daughter about your age… and no matter how much I ask… she won't let me meet the guy she's dating. I haven't even seen a picture..."

"I couldn't imagine why," he replied, handing Jessie her booze with a little more vigour, "You seem nice enough to me."

"Well thank you… and the same to you too, Mikey." The lady sipped her golden liquid, leaning all the closer to rest against his shoulder, "Now how about you open up to mama? Tell me what's getting you down. An attractive thing like you shouldn't look so fed up with life."

"Well," Winters sighed – leaning his weight against the bar for support, "I don't think my girlfriend trusts me…. I mean, I did everything I could to keep what we have alive, but for some reason she's started showing a side to me I've never seen before…. I don't know if she's jealous... or paranoid... or both... This is fucking with me like crazy... because I've never seen her act like this before."

"Honey, listen," Jessie tightened her grip a little – her playful expression becoming stronger, "If a girl's jealous it means she really cares about you… A long time ago when I was in highschool… I had this thing with a guy in my class, a real sweetheart… I'd fight with any girl that looked his way…. It didn't matter what happened… because I was young… in love. Then there's trust... and that's another _nasty_ monster entirely..."

Strange – for the slightest moment Jessie's expression seemed cloudy – and so very faded. Again with this feeling of familiarity. Where had he seen Jessie before?

"But take it from me, Mike…. Both of them... they're a two-way street… Sometimes we end up somewhere that it isn't healthy, and I learned that the hard way. But… at the end of that long and _crazy_ road… it's your decision. Stick with her… or move on… but be sure you do the right thing for you."

"You're fresh out of college I bet," and just like that the older lady's lovely smile was back in full force, "And maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing if you went out there and had some fun… consequences can be so boring…. You only live once, baby."

Words held the power to sway the heart in an instant – what Mike felt at that very moment was proof enough. There was an aura of some kind coming from this gorgeous cougar, one he couldn't quite place, but it made him feel invigorated. "Thanks, Jessie. You might have a point... No... you _do_ have a good point..."

Perhaps his choice to forge ahead with music was the right one after all. "I'm really glad I bumped into y-"

Lips – pressed against his cheek and stroked his skin warmly. When Jessie edged back Mike found himself lost for words. "The pleasure was all mine… and who knows?"

With that, she stole her arm back and reached into her purse, pulling out a little scrap of paper.

Before he could realize it, Mikey held a phone number in his palm. "….If you're ever _dying_ for my company again… don't be afraid to call. I'd be more than happy to spend my evenings with you, precious."

"I might just take you up on the offer." Hopping up from his chair, Winters looked over to the doorway. "I need to head home… got things to plan for. Take care of yourself."

"Muah!" Jessie blew a kiss, slipping one of her lovely legs across the stool, "If you get in touch... I'll come running, promise…."

Sidestepping a few patrons, Mike made his way out into the street. His path was set, "Jessie? I'll be sure to remember the name…."

He'd go ahead with his plan – just as he'd said before. As much as he cared for Tiffany, tonight's experience had left a nasty taste in his mouth.

"'Perfection' it's a pretty shallow word when you think about it…. If anything, I should've learned that already through Audrey…. Yeah… a part of me is starting to think Kyu was right, too… She was trying to warn me…."

' _You're too good for these ditzy human girls….'_

Fluttering wings – magical pink hair and the power to sway hearts with a sparkly wave of the hand. One thing stood true amidst all of the uncertainty.

"You've never once tried to screw me over, have you?"

The choice was a simple one - all thanks to the wonderful Jessie. Nodding to himself in confirmation, Mike brought out his Huniebee and punched the speed-dial option. "C'mon... pick up... Kyu... Pick up!"

"Sup homie?" Such a cheerful voice - the warm chime of his most special fairy, was a godsend right now. "You're calling a little late. Need some-"

"Change of plans," Mike leaned up against the doorway with a confident smirk twisting his lips. "Forget about the girls, Kyu. They're holding me back. It's about time we focus on the band. We're gonna follow your original idea. Help me get famous... You're my fairy, right?"

A naughty giggle slipped over the line from Miss Sugardust. "You know it, hot stuff. Alright! Get your shit together... things just got real!"

"Way ahead of you..." The dice were cast - and Winters wouldn't stop until his name was iup n lights. "It's about time I took things seriously."

* * *

"You called for me, bro?" Kyu's playful voice snapped Mike away from his musings, aiding in his return to the present day. There she stood, disguised in her regular human clothing, wings hidden from sight.

A smile, an evil confession of his almighty power - hands through long hair of glorious peroxide blond. Fingers ran across the outline of an expensive jacket, tossing the article to the wind with poise and swagger. Green eyes focused hard against pink glitter – a scowl of disgust acting to convey intent that words could not. Indeed - the past was lovely, but it was as the name implied, past tense.

"Gentleman," a snap of the fingers sealed the deal, "Please help Miss Sugardust find a seat. I want to talk about the suspension of our contract."

"This is a joke, right?" Objections came hard and fast from the magical being. "This isn't funny! You'd be nothing without me, Winters! You're losing it buddy! I thought you were my main man, my homie!"

On the contrary – he could do whatever he wanted. He and his bandmates were rich. They'd hit the big time, power and fame were there's to command. Backed up with the colossal might of dollar bills, they were practically unstoppable.

"C'mon Kyu…. Let's be serious for a minute, yeah?" Winters sat, adjusting his buttons and eying his struggling fairy with daggers. Part musician, part celebrity, all playboy, he was in perfect control of the situation.

"What we had was fun while it lasted, sure… but I've grown beyond fun and games. My career is at its height; my uncle's music business is booming under the financial aid of Mark's family… there's no reason to keep screwing around like this is there?"

It was the first time he'd ever seen Kyu truly wounded – so beside herself with staggered surprise that she stared wide – still wrestling for freedom as a pair of sharply dressed goons decked out in long trench coats swooped in to restrain her. They waited in perfect obedience – looking to their 'boss' for the order.

It didn't look as though Kyu was going to take her removal lying down, however. In a flash of glowing magenta she sent her captors flying in opposite directions across the room – they smashed into the walls and dropped to the floor like ragdolls. "Not gonna happen, playa," she smiled cheerfully, her surety returning in a crackle of powerful magic. With a wiggle of her nose the two hired hands 'poofed' into a pair of fluffy pink rabbits – hastily hopping away as fast as their little legs could carry.

Winters whistled – impressed enough to stand from the desk of his study. He surveyed the surroundings, taking careful note of the pink-haired girl as she fluttered closer on a pair of thin crystalline wings. "That wasn't very nice of you, ya know? I don't pay those guys by the hour."

"I'll turn them back later. Now then, Mister…. You can't just throw me away like some used toy. Not when we've been buds for like... forever! You're my longest lasting client yet… over two years. I've broken the rules for you… done all kinda crazy shit to help you… and now you want me gone. A little shitty, don't ya think?"

' _I'm not doing this for the fun of it, Kyu. Your talents are wasted on me now…. I'm as close to perfect as can be. You'd do far better with another client. Fuck it… there's no point trying to improve perfection, is there?'_

"I know what you're thinking," she jumped in, stopping his train of thought with an amused chuckle. "The big goofy smirk on your face says it all, dude. You're getting too confident…. Ever since you got money you've been trampling all over people. Right now you need me more than you ever did before."

Boy did he hate how she could read him so easily – a sigh conveyed his frustration. True, he'd struck it big in the last year with his band's new album, but he hadn't changed that much. A mansion was still a home, just larger in scale. The bodyguards? They were there to protect him. He knew too well how many people wanted to take a slice of his fame for themselves.

"You've got it all wrong there." Backing up for a moment, sitting haphazardly upon the finely crafted oaken furniture, Winters reached for a glass of golden liquid. Beside it there sat a neatly drafted piece of white contract paper. "All I'm saying is that maybe… just maybe… it's time we had a break."

He swiped the paper from the contract, displaying it with a killer smile. "Sign it and we're officially on hold for the next four months. Had one of the guys with a little legal knowhow draw it up."

"You're kidding, right?" Kyu rolled her eyes, growling under her breath as she snapped up the piece of paper, her powerful emerald gaze scanning over the contents, expression falling darker is she went further down the page. "You really want to send me away for a while? Mike, homie… you're out of your mind, fuck…. Weren't you listening to a single thing I said just now? You have too much power…."

There was but a single suitable answer to such a concerned tone of voice. "With power comes freedom of choice. I'll be just fine, and I bet you there's another person out there who needs your help far more than me."

"You're not getting it," Kyu flickered a furious red – illuminating the expanse of the room as her wings thundered at twice the pace. "Did you ever think I like being here with you? This is the most fun I've had with a client in DECADES! We tour around the country, partying like there's no fucking tomorrow. Dude… I'm one of the most famous fairies in Sky Garden because of my work with you. This is less a job and more a way of life for me now."

"See?" Mike spun it around with poise, moving in to place a glowing hand of talented blue upon Kyu's shoulder. Smooth and powerful, like the lady-killer he was born to become. "More reason for you to go make another lousy sap successful like you did me."

Kyu's lips twisted into a bittersweet smile as fluttered across to the desk, sprawling with reckless abandon, flicking out her legs with sensual allure. "If I made another guy as powerful and smooth as you I'd end up losing my job… Venus already thinks you're a case of gross misconduct."

"So you're supposed to make us powerful, but not too powerful? Sounds like bullshit to me."

Kyu gave a short shake of the head – pink locks fluttering against the gentle blow of the air conditioning. "If you read the small print in our contract it says I'm tasked with keeping you under wraps too."

"Look," she paused – her hesitation evident in the way she nervously crossed her legs, "If you want this then I suppose it's fine…. I can't really refuse… but… I'm warning you. Once you suspend our deal… if something happens, I won't be able to come to your rescue like I always do. You'll be completely on your own until a full four months tick out."

Something about that ludicrous statement tickled Mike – as he worked to stop a rebellious laugh from escaping as best he could. "For the love of- Kyu…. I'll be fine, fuck me! Name one instance you've had to swoop in and save me."

It didn't take long. Kyu began counting on her fingers, brows furrowed in deep thought as she effortlessly started to recall various incidents of concern.

"There was the whole thing with Kyanna when I first showed up, the crazy anime groupie, what was her name, Suki? The time you almost got Audrey caught in the family way…. Not to mention the weekend when I took you to Sky Garden. You remember, right? One of my colleagues spiked your drink with purple magic and you ended up gender swapped for two days…"

"Okay okay!" Winters held up his hands in surrender, shaking his head, "So you've had to help me a few times… but that was before… back when I was a nobody. Things are different now…. I've got the means to look after myself."

"It's those 'means' that worry me more than anything," the candyfloss fairy admitted with honest brutality, "You humans start going crazy when you have money and power in your hands."

Pausing for a moment – Kyu whipped up a pen from magical ether, resting the tip against the dotted line. There she waited hesitantly, looking back to Mike for one final moment of clarification. "I swear… if you end up like McShagger by the time our break is over… I'll come over here and drug you with so much purple magical you'll wake up as a girl permanently."

Mike chuckled, giving an approving nod, watching carefully as Kyu scribbled her name against the paper, hands stiffened throughout the whole three seconds. "Nothing's gonna happen," he repeated, "I'll be just fine!"

Pushing the paper back into his hands, the winged beauty swooped in one last time, throwing her arms around her now former client. She squeezed him tight, flicking curly threads of pink away to expose her orbs of light. "You're a fucking idiot… but a lovable one… I'll give you that. A heads up for next time you try and fire me though, homie… don't use the apes in suits… so not cool."

Warmth surged throughout Mike's core – his entire body relaxing into a soothing embrace. Softness encroached upon his lips, arms straddling him in a wonderfully soft cuddle. He watched through blurry sight as Kyu inched back, lapping up the dampness of saliva from her lips, giving him a cautious wave. "Think you owe me a little more than a kiss when I get back, dude. Now… BE CAREFUL!"

There was a sincerity to her warnings – something far beyond the likes of which he was used to hearing from the carefree magical woman. He needed to put her at ease, hopping up from the desk with his ailing glass of liquor in hand. "It's all under control," he assured her with a 'thumbs up'. "I'll see you in a few months."

"Later Mikey," she smiled – her happiness evidently far more fragile than usual. "I'll be sure to tune into your show in Glenberry." With that final, heartfelt farewell, the fairy evaporated in a shower of pinkish sparkles.

* * *

It was far too silent in the study now. First things first, a little music. The peroxide musician downed his firewater, strolling across to the back of the wide room, eying a huge sound-system with thunderous excitement. Jabbing the power button, he cycled through an array of different musical genres. "Rock… Metal… Not feeling classical. Here we go… the remix playlist…."

A rapture of electronic beats and bass shook the windowpanes – Winters slid back across the carpet in appreciation, kicked up his feet on the desk, and poured another glass of the good stuff - bobbing his head in tow with the heavy thumping.

"Better check my schedule while I'm free." Prodding the side of an intercom with his shiny-shoed foot, he roared over the staggering audible volume. "Yo! Need a little insight into my diary for the next couple of weeks… care to give me a heads up, Misses P?"

"Of course, sir." Misses Paterson, Claudia. He'd hired her to keep tabs on all of his important happenings since his ascent to musical stardom. Parities, social gatherings, sessions in the recording studio, she logged it all, and sounded damn miserable while doing it. "Let me pull up your schedule…."

Tapping his other foot impatiently, the entitled singer waited, taking back a mouthful of drink to ease his tension. The stresses of such a full-throttle social calendar these days were a little too much to handle. "Anytime today, Claudia. I'm sure there are plenty of other people out there looking to get paid as much as you do for this job."

"Of course, sir," she sighed - disheartened as always, "Sorry sir. It says here you're going to a party with Nora and Miss Renee on Tuesday. You're also meeting with Miss Lillian for dinner next Thursday. She'll be brought here under private escort. Last of all... you'll have to be in Glenberry on the Saturday of that week for the final show of your tour."

"Good… good. Take the rest of the day off. I'm gonna make plans for a little get-together tonight. I won't be needing your help until tomorrow." There wasn't much else to say. Mikey shunted the side of the intercom with his foot, grooving his way across the carpet a second time, halfway between euphoric intoxication and a financially-induced high. Having whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, was absolutely marvellous.

"It's a crowd of twenty-thousand next weekend… gonna be good, real good."

Peering out of the window, the sight of gorgeous girls in bikini's filled his heart with a wave of intense vigour. He didn't know them – didn't care to, either. They were the booty calls for a couple of the more adventurous roadies, nothing more and nothing less.

"Can't deny that they make the pool look damn fine…."

A sip of the drink to calm his lust-hungry nerves, "Keep it cool. You'll have plenty to choose from when you get back to Glenberry. Damn…. How long has it been since I last visited that old place? Gotta be over a year now. It's fitting… couldn't think of a better town for our last performance. Finishing where we started seems… right."

* * *

The days ticked onward, dissolving into nothingness as if they'd never existed. Tonight was the night – a divine moment in which Third Betrayal would shake the entire world. The vibrant city of Glenberry was waiting, the cameras rolled with star-studded desire, all while countless crowds of people cheered and screamed in whole-hearted admiration. This colorful student town had made the band famous. It was time to repay the debt.

A reflection looking back in the mirror, smiling with a bloated wave of euphoric glee. The peroxide hair was perfectly gelled, the pressed blue shirt and pricey black pants flawlessly set without a single crease. The shoes? So shiny they'd reflect back the flashes of the paparazzi cameras. Mike was good to go – a flood of glorious Talent pulsing so hard through his veins that he cried out in bliss.

His aura swam across the length of the hotel room – licking the walls with almighty presence. "Looking good… feeling good. Look out world…. I've finally made it. I'm a fucking GOD. No more living in mother's shadow. The violin can gather dust in its box…. My voice sways the hearts of millions."

The mirror had served its purpose. Turning his back, the smoothly dressed vocalist reached for the television remote from the bed. He'd forgotten to check the news coverage – practically a sin in itself when he and his bandmates would no doubt he centre stage. A few clicks brought the news channel to life.

Mike smiled at the sight of the report. A journalist stood at the huge open doorway of the Glenberry Stadium. She was surrounded on all sides by screaming. Some people clutched signs and billboards - while others had fan memorabilia with names and love hearts splattered in red and blue paint. The deafening roar of propellers hovered overhead, the broadcast feed panning upward to depict a Glenberry News copter swinging by on a slick pass.

The lady reporter clutched her microphone – brushing a flustered hand through her windswept hair:

_'This is Christie Carmine reporting live from the Glenberry Stadium. Thousands of supporters have flocked here today in preparation for the last show of Third Betrayal's sellout 'Charisma' concert. People have come from everywhere, across the entire country and even overseas to see the four piece Rap-Rock band perform live. Rocketing to stardom just eleven months ago with their hit first studio album 'LoveBeat' Neil, Steve, Mike and Jamie have taken the world by storm. Perhaps most popular of all is Mister Winters, son of the departed classical music icon Angela Winters, who performed in this arena over two decades earlier. With an international tour planned next year, will anything stop this band from spearheading a Nineties music revival?'_

The mention of mother brought a twinge of discomfort. Mike sighed – cooling his frustration with a channel change. Tossing the remote on the bedsheets, he grabbed his jacket and made for the door. "This isn't your night, Angela… it's mine…."

* * *

Passion and florescent glows spun out under an uproar of cheering and applause. Mike swept a hand through his peroxide locks, taking the centre stage – eyes of brightest green drinking up every ounce of adoration aimed his way. Bobbing his head in perfect timing with the beat of their backing track, he waited – it was time for the twin guitarists to shine.

The sea of people in their thousands were under hypnotic control – completely disinterested in anything but the sound of their glorious music. Young ladies at the front waved their plaques and flailed in recklessly wild abandon, holding signed photographs and other such items in sweaty palms. As the guitar solo kept on, Mikey took a final moment to centre himself.

A deep breath. Inhaling, and exhaling. Rinse, repeat. He was the boss – this entire stadium was his playground. Bathed in stage lights and the flashing of camera phones, Mikey felt his soul burning bright. The inner beast, the showman, the playboy, was alive in all of its flawless beauty. Not a single boundary stood in the way of conquest – the charts, the billboards, and every other musical ranking from here to Europe was singing praises.

In a single powerful moment the guitars dropped, rays on neon snapping across to give Mike full focus. It was his signal, his calling – a reminder that it was his destiny to bring the world to its knees. Television sets across the four corners of the world were tuning in tonight.

' _Time to give them a show they'll never forget….'_

One final breath of preparation – eyes of green sparking a talented blue as he brought the game to the next level. Holding the microphone tight, he began his lyrical ritual:

_"Yeah… that's right. Time to let go! Believe in me girl, and we'll keep climbing high, against all odds, higher than the clouds in that deep blue sky! In life there's winners and losers, one or the other, you can't be both. Put your trust in me and we'll find the meaning of love. Talent, Charisma, Passion, an aura of blue… my gift… my calling, to find a new world with you!"_

The fans loved it – single-minded in their following. Every word he spoke held enough weight to ensnare the heart and capture the soul. His Talent, twisted into blue music notes, gripped the entire venue, holding them to a ransom of which there was no way to escape.

' _Might as well turn up the heat!'_

Winters smirked, giving a smug scoff as he reached downward, tearing his shirt asunder, and the buttons rolled across the stage. Not content just yet, he plucked the garment away and tossed it into the crowd, awaiting the response expectantly. As people fought over the lone item of clothing, he brought the mic close to his lips – there was no sense in holding back:

_"I've got it, you want it – there's a fire inside me… it lights the way, pushing me closer to a brand new day. Power and glory, they're mine to take, and I'll leave this place shaking with tears in my wake – cuz I'm a lover, a fighter, with my heart shining true, so stand by me baby, my eyes are on y-"_

A shriek – far from the normal screams of obsession – a genuine weil of terror. Mike froze solid, the music fell low, the entire band becoming statues as confusion took hold. A thick plume of smoke billowed at the front of the spectators, fists flew, violence and aggression taking hold in an instant.

Before too long the cloud of obscuring smog was too thick for the singer to make out what was going on. Members of the security team up front climbed over the barriers, shouting back and forth in a disorganized mess.

Harrowing cries of anguish overtook the front of the stadium as people scattered left and right. Something felt very wrong here. Mike's heart thumped hard in alarm, signalling his subconscious to act. A dangerous feeling swept across his body in warning – it told him to get off the stage right now.

' _Move, Winters! Move! You're out in the open here!'_

"I've got eyes on them! Four men - mid twenties! They're carrying knives! Get more security in here, quick!"

The voice sounded familiar – a member of the security staff that Mike had spoken to earlier today. Something about a knife. A cold shiver crawled up his back. He turned to move in the other direction, his mind screaming even louder to vacate the stage. His feet scraped along in jagged compliance, and from the corner of his eye he saw the glint of light against shimmering silver.

Before Mike could even register what was going on, his feet left the ground, friction burning his back as he skidded against concrete. The entire core of his conscience looped over in twisted nausea. It took a low, violent cackle to snap his attention back into place.

Eyes of green connected with a tainted stare of brown. Winters tried with all of his might to move, but found that his entire body was pinned in place, held without hope of escape by a tattoo-scrawled wall of muscle wearing a sweaty white vest. His facial structure, the hue of his complexion, this man was no doubt Hispanic in terms of ethnic origin.

The mysterious attacker brought up a sharpened blade with a perfectly shined edge, crushing Mike's attempts of escape into the ground with a pair of powerful arms. Holding out the weapon, he let out a disgusting scream of laughter, eying Mikey with absolute bliss.

"The boss sends his regards, you smug little prick. Word of warning for the next time… Don't touch what doesn't belong to you, got it? Cuz now I've gotta fuck you up… and I think I'm gonna enjoy it…."

The flicker of steel was the last thing Mike saw before half of his vision blew out like a shattering lightbulb. Fire burned across the right side of his face, the warm flow of crimson leaking across the expanse of his chest. Nothing made sense – the screaming pain was far too pure to decode any information. All he could muster was a simple alarming truth.

' _My right eye… it won't open..."_

His thoughts were silenced with uncaring monstrosity – purged in the purest waves of hell as the bloodied weapon crept downward - carving into the side of his face with gruesome precision . Agony, agony, agony… it hurt so much! He couldn't allow a scream - he could not allow the pain to reach his vocal cords. No matter what.

_'Stop stop stop stop stop... PLEASE STOP!'_

Yet it was hopeless – biting down on his teeth was little comfort. A howl of unrestrained torment ripped free from his mouth, filling the air in a showing of truest distress. With every second the sensation only worsened. Overcome at last – Mike twitched in a – no doubt a desperate attempt from his body to regulate itself.

With one final bellow of laughter, the grizzly 'surgeon' pulled his implement free, standing with folded arms and a contented expression. Through foggy sight, Mike reached out in a desperate attempt to keep his brain ticking over. One side of his cheek felt open to the air – as though the soft evening breeze ran right through it. Red was everywhere, and a disgusting taste like copper poisoned his tastebuds.

"What did I do to... deserve this?" Mikey curled into a shuddering little ball - a tragic attempt at defending himself, "Why me?"

The thug smiled once more, tossing the knife away. "I already told you holmes… you fucked with something that doesn't belong to you... Not that it matters now… you'll have the rest of your life to think about it... Lights out, motherfucker!"

Blunt force struck the singer in the form of a boot. The world flipped backward – an almost surreal inversion pulling everything together in a distorted haze. The only thing that shined through the crushing weight of disorientation was the shallow sound of breathing. One breath – two, three and four. By the time, the count finished, blackness washed over.

"Dammit." Crimson tears leaked out as Mike clawed against the concrete, "Kyu…. Where are you? Help me…."

**To be continued….**


	2. Scars

Pristine white walls and the tinge of sterility – they were two things that Mike hated. Hospitals never had a calming effect, especially when he was the main event. Days lost their meaning and spun out into an endless tune. Yet here he was, looking into a mirror, reminded countless times, of just how much things had changed.

"Lay it on me, doctor." the blond turned back abruptly, meeting eyes with a taller man of distinct, clean features and short hair. In his hand, he held a large stack of paperwork. "What's the real extent of the damage here?"

Fear was an emotion beyond the likes of which any normal person could control. How painfully ironic that a medical professional, the kind of person he usually looked upon with such scepticism, was now the only one capable of bringing his life back to some kind of order.

"It's about time we take off the dressings," the doctor spoke shortly as his assistant carefully came across from the doorway to help. "There are a lot of things we need to discuss… and some crucial changes that you must be made aware of."

Since the moment of waking up after that dreaded moment, the instant of his life akin to a nightmare, Mister Winters had been forced to wear bandages, a protective layer that added to the already ample armor he'd thickened himself with since the 'event' transpired.

The clammy wrappings came away after a handful of careful snips from shiny surgical scissors. He finally felt it, the coolness of air against his face after so long. However – something felt terribly amiss. A disgusting fusion of rogue emotions threw everything into chaos. With shuddering hands, he looked back toward the mirror.

"Unfortunately the procedure was not successful," the voice of the doctor returned – this time far more subdued and compassionate. "The degree of damage you suffered during the attack was enough to cause severe detachment of your retina. Your eyeball itself is also very badly scarred – and the lens of your eye is-"

"Stop right there." A scowl in repulsion was the best that the 'creature' starring back deserved. A criss-cross of disgusting fleshy scars inches wide and several inches long scrawled across the right side of his face – beginning their twisted trails just below the eye and finally finising near the jawline. This freak wasn't him – nor did it hold the same flare and poise. It was a horrible and disfigured beast, one the likes of which he'd never accept.

"I'm afraid the issue needs to be addressed. Open your eye Mister Winters. Please, tell me if you can see anything…."

Alas, with a sigh of surrender he slowly moved to sit at the foot of his bed. Opening his eyelid was the easy part - and it brought a crushing revelation.

Emptiness span out like a void – its sheer weight on his already queasy stomach proving to be far too much. Bile and acid bubbled away - swaying from side to side in the depths until finally, they tried to escape. Mike reached for the bowl at his bedside, twitching in discomfort as his stomach heaved.

In the aftermath, he sat silently – staring at his feet in broken dismay. "….There's nothing out of my right side. No blackness, no blurring, no distortion…. Doctor… does that mean I'm-"

"Yes… it's as I initially feared after your surgery." A hand on the shoulder from the white-coat wearing surgeon was of little comfort. It didn't take away the coldness, nor the bitterness. "I'm very sorry…. I'm afraid you've completely lost the vision in your right eye."

Winters watched through the cone of vision he had left – hands shuddering wildly under the revelation, tears spilling forth as he saw the world in an entirely different light. "But," he choked, clasping his hands together in a frantic attempt to stop his heart from breaking. "I thought you guys could fix retinal detachment…. I can't-"

"Usually we can," clarification that meant little at this point, even as the older man put down tucked underneath his arm and articulated with hand gestures.

"However, the extent of the damage you sustained, not just to your retina but to the eyeball itself was very serious, as I just told you. If I'm being honest with you… in my ten years of operating at Glenberry General… you're only the third person I've seen sustain these kind of injuries and not receive an enucleation."

"You aren't taking out my eye," A brief growl was all the response Winters felt was needed, drying the tears and burying his head in his hands. "I already look mutilated enough without making things any worse."

"I understand you're in shock right now, young man, but It's important that you listen to me." Another plea from the doc, stuck somewhere between compassionate and crushingly professional, "There's a chance you might start to experience-"

"I'm done talking about this…." There was no point in keeping this line of conversation alive. All that was important right now was staring down the truth, letting the anger and the pain sink in. "As soon as you think I'm ready I want you to prepare my discharge papers, some strong prescription painkillers and the rest of the bill…. I'll take home visits over this any day."

"I implore you to listen for the sake of you-"

No – he was finished listening to all of this prattle. "What's the point? You can't fix what's broken… and I don't value your opinion unless you can. So I'll ask you once more… can you bring back my eyesight?"

"I'm afraid not, no."

That was all the fallen vocalist needed to know. "Then please, leave me in peace doc. I'll deal with this by myself, in my own way."

* * *

A month had passed since that day and things had only gotten worse. In an attempt to escape the media attention Mike decided to do one thing – the only thing he could in order to get away from the prying eyes and the world of cameras.

The old apartment would be his solice. It spun out before him, dusty and badly kept – another relic of a very different past to remind him of just how different things were. Much of the furniture remained covered by sheets, a thick layer of dust, and so many conflicting memories.

Flashbacks played out like ghostly echoes – voices of conversations he'd shared in times long since passed. The way Kyu sprawled across the couch half-naked and munched down snacks while she watched 'questionable' channels, the countless times he'd invited Audrey over to 'chill' for the weekend, and perhaps most importantly, the night of realization at the hands of Suki.

So many snippets of a time when everything held a different tone – a different color. They should've been good memories, fond reminders, but right now Mike couldn't help but look at everything, through half the perspective and a greyed, grainy filter.

"This is where it all began…. My first place when I left college and moved to Glenberry. Somehow I should feel happier… but I don't."

A wretch of discomfort escaped as he yanked the cover from the leather couch – dust particles fleeing everywhere in a bid for freedom. The leather in all of its nostalgic glory, freed at last from its sheet prison, was perhaps the only thing with enough sentiment to bring a tiny smirk to the wounded musician's lips.

"Damn this couch has seen a few things. If it could talk then I'd have to burn it…."

Sitting down for a little while brought with it an ounce of peace – a small pleasure after such a long and drawn out day. It was hard enough leaving the mansion house with all of the reporters waiting in the wings like vultures. Driving all the way back to Glenberry on the small backroads took twice as long – but perhaps the hardest task of all was getting back the keys from the landlady without too much fuss.

A yawn escaped – all Mike wanted to do was rest. The world and its problems didn't matter. The first-world issues of music and drama didn't matter, either. Right now, the only thing worth some weight was the thought of escape. The world still hurt to look at, but for the moment, inside this spacious apartment, his old fortress of sorts, he was safe.

"I don't care if I get lost in the crowds. Everything's fucked… nothing can change it, and the last thing I want is for people to find me."

* * *

_Flashes from the darkness – a sword cutting forth from nothingness. It sliced and slashed, running deep. An arena filled to the brim cheering fans welcomed him closer, but with every ebb and flow, the lights dimmed and the scene became frightfully cold and sinister. A pair of powerful hands held everything in place. An evil smile and the glint of a knife, blood spattered and pooled, turning everything red until nothing of purity remained._

_Every breath became heavy, the world threatening to cave in. He panicked and writed and screamed, but there was no escape. The blade came down, bursting his world like a balloon and sending reality into a downward spiral. The laughter of his attacker hung in the air like a curse, mocking and berating his struggles until finally, the whole world turned white._

" _Why did you hurt me? You've taken everything away from me…. This isn't how things are supposed to be. I gave everything for this life. The road I walked was paved in gold… it glorified my platinum soul. Now look at me… I'm small… I'm broken… and they never found the person responsible.'_

_The laughter intensified, becoming harsher with every passing fragment of a second. It brought terror, and in the end, misery. "The boss sends his regards, you smug little prick. Word of warning for the next time… Don't touch what doesn't belong to you, got it? Cuz now I've gotta fuck you up… and I think I'm gonna enjoy it…."_

A scream erupted inside – large, powerful and unforgiving. Mike felt cold, the side of his face stuck against dusty hardwood. Turning his head, bringing his functioning eye in line with the surroundings, he drank up the familiar setting of the apartment – sweat poured from his forehead.

"Just a dream… Fuck it. I can't stay shut indoors all day…."

There was only one place in the whole of Glenberry with enough serenity to calm his wounds – of that there was no doubt.

* * *

"The beach…."

A gorgeous orange sunset bathed Turtle Bay. Its warmth held enough intensity to calm the soul and ease a fraction of the pain. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a baggy shirt, face obscured behind wide sports sunglasses and a baseball cap, Mike gazed upon the beauty of golden sand through a foggy leer. His left side tired much faster doing all the work, which had become both clear and frustrating to him over the recent weeks.

Slender teenage girls tossed around a beach ball and joked around without a care in the world. Waves crashed against the shoreline and birds swooped majestically in the amber-tinted sky. It was all so beautiful, so tragic.

"Why did this ha-"

Mike's words fell flat as something bumped the side of his leg. Turning slightly to compensate for his blind spot, he gazed downward, squinting for a moment to bring everything into focus – a little white football, covered in specks of wet sand.

"Hey Mister! Mister!" A soft voice – one of innocence and cheerfulness followed. The sound of feet pattered across the golden expanse, and into Mike's view, there came a little boy. "My ball… Can I have it please?"

The young man stood patiently, holding his hands together hopefully. He wore a striped white shirt, shorts, and a pair of bluish sandals, bore long dark hair, and a pair of gentle brown eyes in tow with a rounded face and Hispanic features.

Something about him seemed vaguely familiar, but Mike shrugged off the thought, reaching down to pick up the ball and pass it back. "Here ya go kid. Be sure not to lose-"

"Philly! C'mere! What did I tell you about talking to people without mommy there with you?"

Before Mike could realize it, he found his heart thumping in his chest. Another memory, this one far more powerful than all the others, like a dream turned to reality - a young woman of beautifully long hair, a curvy figure and a gorgeous complexion. Decked out in denim shorts and a tank top, she arrived like a protective mother bear, reaching out and softly pulling the boy behind her.

"Kyanna…." Winters pulled down the brim of his hat in a pitiful attempt to further obscure his face. He felt the nerves rising to the surface, and in a split second, he started clambering to his feet, brushing off the sand as best he could. "….It's been a long time…."

"It has…. Over a year since you last came to town, dude. Been keeping count." Miss Delrio awkwardly moved on her heels, kneeling down to her charge with a motherly smile. "Go play, okay Philip? But don't stray too far. I'll be with you in a little while okay?"

Chuckling sweetly, completely oblivious in childlike innocence toward the atmosphere of the exchange, Philip collected up his ball and began tottering away. "Kay Momma! I'll be super good!"

Alone, and feeling even more tense for it, Mike breathed a stiff sigh. In a strange way there came a spark of warmth somewhere deep inside, but beyond that he couldn't deny the cold dread – the fear that came with someone seeing him like this. "I should go. Now isn't a good ti-"

"Don't leave... I saw your show. I was there in the crowd." Kyanna silenced him outright. Her smooth hand upon his shoulder only served to make things even worse. "There was smoke and people started fighting…. I watched someone knock you off the stage and… and-"

Mike quivered, his entire body reduced to jelly as the gorgeous Latina lady threw her arms, unrestrained and caring, around his shoulders. "I'm so glad you're okay! I heard the news lady say you were rushed to the hospital."

"Let me go..."

"Not a chance," the Mexican girl whispered.

Despite frail complaints, he made no attempt to escape. Something about this embrace – the warmth of it, ignited a fire that had long since burned out. Regardless of how long it had been, he found himself squeezing Kyanna for dear life, taking in every second of the comfort provided, fearful that she'd crumble and vanish if tried to leave.

"I was attacked," he sighed, his voice shaking under the pressure. "I passed out from the pain. There was so much blood... and by the time I woke up I was sat in bed on a private ward…. A lot happened and it's still taking so long to sink-"

Kyanna edged back, eyes dampened with feeling, and slowly reached with a pair of outstretched fingers toward his shades. Plucking them away, she gasped – in the end only causing her to cling even tighter in a renewed cuddle. Her tears ran freely, "What did they do to you? Your face… those scars… your eye… it's white… cloudy…."

"Please don't look at me, Kyanna. Stop staring." Mike struggled under the weight of her expression. He felt disgusting. The only thing he could do to freeze the pain, was look down at his feet. "You're the last person I wanted to see me like this…."

Kyanna dried her tears against the fabric of his shirt and frowned. "How did you expect me to react? Shit, Mike! People are even saying you have private investigators crawling around town. You expected me NOT to worry?! Is this why?"

"Of course it is! I'm afraid." Two words that held enough power in their admission to change everything. Winters gazed with what little strength he had, into Kyanna's eyes of beautiful violet. "I feel weak, and fragile…. I've lost my right eye… every time I see my reflection reminders stare back at me…. I'm ugly… torn up… and the person who did it hasn't been cau-"

"Stop… don't say anymore. You don't need to." In but a single moment everything felt different. A fragile smile on behalf of his long-lost friend was enough to make the sunset, so empty just moments before, into a faint moment of fleeting beauty. "It's so long since everything fell apart between us… but… right now… more than anything…. It sounds like you need a friend. That look in your eyes... so hateful... that's not the guy I knew."

Those words - even though they were so heartfelt in their intent, changed everything. The warmth was gone, replaced by a chilling bitterness.

Breaking away - unable to stop the negative emotion from crawling up his back any longer, the broken singer scoffed, turning away. "Getting your face carved up like a piece of meat? Yeah, it'll do that to you."

Even if hadn't been so close, it would've been impossible to miss Kyanna's loud, frustrated sigh. "Here I thought I'd have a chance to talk to you... for you to prove to me you were different than before... Guess I was wrong, huh? I'm trying to reach out here, dude. How can you not see that?"

Something about that, perhaps the tone, or maybe the sharp, agonizing pang it caused within the chest, made Mikey punch his fists together.

What did she know?

"I don't have to prove anything to anybody... Look... just leave me in peace, alright?"

Stomping through the sand, stopping him dead with a pair of tight hands upon the shoulders, Miss Delrio spun Mike around. The look in her eyes was so intense, so overwhelming. "What? So you can enjoy your pity party? I know you too well, Winters... shit. If you're left alone with money, all twisted up and angry..."

That was when she backed away - her eyes of violet looking a million miles away. "You'll destroy yourself."

No word, no matter how bittersweet, held a shred of weight. If anything, he was determined above all else, regardless of his own well-being, to push on.

"That's no concern of yours, Kyanna... but I'll tell you now."

All of the bile, all of the sheer, unrelenting hatred bubbled to the surface - Mike's hands squeezing together into vicious balled knuckles.

"Soon as I'm done getting myself together... I'm going to find whoever did this."

His eyes narrowed, a sickening, vile anger swimming throughout. He was uncaring of who saw him, uncaring of who heard him, either. Even if it took an eternity, this fallen angel, would have his way.

"And when I do... I'll make them regret what they did... I don't care what it takes me... Somebody in Glenberry took everything from me... and I won't rest until I've repaid the favor."

It was then, in the blink of an eye, that Kyanna lost the color in her cheeks, taking a slow, measured step back. "What happened to you, Mike Winters? Have fame and fortune really changed you that much?"

His pledge had struck quite the nerve, it seemed.

"Maybe... I don't even know anymore."

There was no sense in sticking around any longer - it would only make things worse. Giving a short bow of the head, Mike moved cautiously in light of his altered vision, catching a glimpse of the stone staircase, which lead across to the boardwalk.

This was the right thing to do - even if his innermost protested, and somewhere, quietly, a flame flickered for the past.

"It's not worth it, idiota," Kyanna called out - her stern, motherly tone echoing across the expense of the golden sand. "You'll only make things worse! Is that what you want?"

Yet again, she'd silenced him - stopped those desperate escapist feet from making an exit. Sighing, forced to adress the depths even if he didn't want to, Mike reached out for the guardrail, taking the first step up before looking back.

"What good am I if I take this lying down, Kyanna? This time I've gotta set this straight… make a stand... even if it's for the wrong reasons."

Scowling, the Hispanic babe let out a low, annoyed shout, hands clenched into fists. She was like an archer, her narrowed gaze shooting a deadly arrow from all the way across the beach.

"GOD YOU'RE STUBBORN! Verga!"

She was speaking Spanish now? Mike pondered - going back to the many times he'd listened to his dear friend Nora rant about her foster family in the native tongue. It sounded like an insult, alright.

His lips curved into a smirk of some sort, especially at the mention of stubbornness. "That's probably why we keep meeting up like this, isn't it?"

Was it hard-headedness? Perhaps a lack of strength required to let go? Whatever the case, life kept throwing these two together, and it kept doing it on this damned beach, too.

Taking a moment to regain his composure, putting his anger on the low boil, at least for now, Mike exhaled, closing the gap yet again. There was an irony to this whole thing - a deep-rooted one at that.

Miss Delrio looked to be doing the same thing, too, the duo meeting halfway across the sand, almost as though an invisible line had been drawn, not allowing them to get too close all while the forces of gravity prevented them from becoming too distant.

He'd been stupid enough in this whole discussion. Mike looked beyond Kyanna, down the beach to the sight of her little boy, playing innocently with his soccer ball. It certainly put things into perspective. Before him stood a lone parent with far more responsibilities, and even now, she was trying to help.

Removing his hat and sunglasses, allowing the full extent of his scarred, damaged face to show, Winters made the first move.

"I'm sorry... You're right, too. I don't want this... not for a good reason anyway, but what am I supposed to do? Look at me. Nobody's gonna want to wake up next to his face every morning."

Though hesitant at first, Kyanna was the one to push ahead, smashing their wall of sorts. She held up, at least a handhold of space away, staring into him with those violet gemstones, fearless in every way.

"It's a couple of deep scars, and your eye's a little faded. That's all, dude. It's what's inside that counts. That's what I've been saying this whole time."

Honest and beautiful, the single mother clasped her hands together, holding them against her heart in something akin to a silent prayer. "What I mean is... don't lose that kindness of yours over this, Mike. I loved you for that big heart not so long ago…."

Her admission only brought the feelings to swell even harder. That sad, inner voice from a time long since passed cried out.

Mike felt himself cowering under the weight of such sentiment. "Then what should I do? Because right now I am so lost you couldn't begin to imagine."

In true Kyanna fashion however, past the fiery temperament of a fearsome mother bear, she held her hands upon those gorgeous, curvy hips, smiling with warmth befitting the setting sun.

"Show me the guy I cared about's still in there somewhere. Not the playboy, not the celebrity... and then we'll talk, kay?"

Many a moment slipped by - thoughts in overdrive as the singer searched within. Right now he was terribly low on people to rely on, people he could trust, but the offer laid out here was a precious one - that was for certain.

Of course he'd have to earn back Kyanna's trust. After all, they'd parted on such cloudy terms beforehand. Save the occasional, difficult visit to the salon for hair appointments in the past, they'd barely spoken since then, either.

The choice was clear. Mikey offered his hand. "Alright. I'll try and get shit t-"

Genuine comfort, deep and compassionate - the kind he'd not felt in so long. It all happened so fast, but Kyanna held him tight, squeezing the wounded musician within her arms, holding him tight The scent of her body spray, quaint and familiar ensnared the senses, causing him to float upon the waters of reflection.

By the time she let him go, all Mike could do was stand there, thoughts lost in a blur. Why'd she make a move like that?

"Go figure yourself out, dude. I'll see you on the flip-flop. You know where to find me."

Not another word - not a whisper. Kyanna gave a small, fragile smile before breaking away, stopping just short of the water to collect her son.

A strained glance toward the fancy, silver watch upon Mike's wrist brought some clarity. Exhaling, his hazy vision fixated upon the final rays of dying sunlight, he went back the way he'd came, stopping just short of the boardwalk to catch one final glimpse of Kyanna and her charge, leaving hand in hand, bright smiles upon their faces.

"Thanks, Kyanna... You're too good to me."

**To be continued....**


End file.
